The Path to Paradise
by noa748
Summary: You can walk away from Silent Hill, but you can never really leave. Sequel to 'Into the Nightmare'.
1. You're Not Here

**A/N: Oh yes, this is what you think it is. But don't get too excited! This is really just a sneak peek. I'm still working on figuring out the plot and all that - plus I have another story that I REALLY should be writing instead of dicking around and doing this in my spare time. XD**

**Anyway. This is basically a confirmation that yes, a sequel is coming. Because I can't play Silent Hill anymore without thinking about that good ol' story that I completed and how much fun it was to write and wishing I could return to that creepy world of mine. :P This one is going to be set in SH3, though I'm not sure if it will follow the game plot quite as closely as the last story did. There's a certain Chekhov's gun element (Heather's pendant, durr) that OC Brit could completely take advantage of...if I let her. We'll have to see on that one. XD **

**Title is subject to change...but I probably won't change it. XD I agonize over story titles for way too long as it is.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>In my restless dreams, I see that town…<em>

Sometimes in late spring, when the showers seldom stop and the leaves are still budding on the trees, a thick fog rolls in and blankets coastal New England. It happens almost every year without fail, accompanying overcast skies and chilly temperatures until summer finally comes to save the day.

I hate spring.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey. Way to not answer your phone."<em>

The voice came before I could even say hello, and I rolled my eyes. Matt had never been one for manners.

"I just finished work two seconds ago, smartass," I replied as I fished through my purse for my car keys. "Three people called out today. _Three! _On spring break. Fuck my life."

He snorted. _"Same shit, different day. Relax, the Massholes will go home soon. You can go back to complaining about other petty crap to me."_

"It's not—" I faltered, and then sighed. "You're right. Wish I could go full-time at the shelter. The pay is no good, though."

It really was petty, but that was what happened whenever I fell back on the family business. Unfortunately my family's business just happened to be Dunkin' Donuts—it had been okay when I was seventeen, but now that I was twenty it was really getting tiring. It was especially difficult when the 'family' in question was somewhat crazy.

A lot of things had changed since I was seventeen. I had moved to Maine to live with my father in Wells for a while, but once I had gotten the assistant manager job (in addition to a weekend job at the local animal shelter) and paid off my car, I had been able to afford a little apartment in York. When I wasn't busy making ends meet, I tended to hang out with my friend Matt—he had adopted his dog from the shelter, and that was how we'd met two years ago.

"_Solution: get a third job!" _he declared, clearly bored with the subject. _"But first, we're going to OOB."_

"Old Orchard Beach? It's not even warm out. I don't even think the Pier's open—"

"_Cool, so I'll meet you there around four."_

I pressed a hand to my forehead. "Did you even hear a word I just said?"

"_Nope,"_ he replied cheerfully_. "Just background noise. Anyway, I suddenly have important things to take care of. See you in a few hours."_

Aaaaand he hung up. Same old Matt. Oh well—he was entertaining enough, when he wasn't intentionally being an ass.

I liked hanging out with Matt. He didn't overanalyze and read into things, he didn't pry into my business, and most of the time I caught on to any of his ulterior motives. Other people were a little harder to understand. They also tried a little too hard to understand _me, _I'd discovered in past years.

Matt and I clicked because we had a sort of unspoken mutual agreement. He was twenty-three, had spent two years in Afghanistan after graduating high school. He didn't talk about his time in the Army. He also understood that something had happened to me when I was seventeen, and we didn't talk about _that, _either.

Nobody else really understood that not-talking rule. My family, the police, the media, the psychiatrists…

Nope. Just Matt.

I gathered up my things, pausing to lock up the store's office before heading for the back door. I was dismayed to see that it was raining outside—again. I'd probably get dragged to the beach anyway.

The fog from this morning seemed to have come back. Now I grimaced, walking over to my car and immediately shutting myself inside. I refused to let myself look at the place on the hood where that dent used to be. It had been repaired a long time ago.

After a few seconds of bracing myself, I finally pulled out on to Route 1 and went onward towards home. If I had to deal with another one of these foggy days, I might just drive off a damn cliff.

* * *

><p>Three years. Three years since I stumbled away from that nightmare.<p>

I later found out that I had been missing for over thirty-six hours. A policeman on patrol had seen my empty car sitting on the road, found my license in my wallet, and had contacted my parents. An extensive search had begun.

What they never understood was the large dent in the front of my car—there was a dent but oddly enough, no blood and no body. Thus they had been forced to assume I had hit some sort of object. Again, though…no such object could be found.

The force of the crash hadn't been enough to cause any serious injuries, so they knew I hadn't walked away from the car in a delirious state. But if I had intentionally left to get help, why would I have left my wallet and purse behind?

So the police had come to the conclusion that some stranger had taken advantage of my situation and kidnapped me. Apparently they'd tried to call and trace my cell phone—but the number hadn't gone through. It would ring once and then immediately blare static. How surprising.

When I had then magically reappeared out of nowhere, walking in through my mother's front door covered in blood and gore, they were understandably alarmed. They were even more alarmed when most of the blood on me couldn't be matched to anything human…_or _animal.

I didn't really care. The weeks of questioning, hospital visits, being stared at by everyone who passed me by…it was still a step up from what I'd been through. I survived and the first thing I did when I got home was hug my mom. That made everything worth it.

Of course, I hadn't been able to explain anything that had happened. After all, what could I have possibly told them? So I feigned memory loss. They could develop their own theories about what had happened; really, it was easier that way, for others and for myself. I didn't have to relive the experience by telling the story, and they didn't have to hear anything they couldn't handle.

But regardless of all that, I was still the top local news story, and everyone around knew my face. That was most of the reason why I moved.

It was unfortunate. I had really been hoping my life could just resume its normal course once I returned home. Oh, well; at least now things were finally beginning to settle down. I still felt like I was missing something…

…If only James were here.

* * *

><p>"It's <em>pouring <em>out!"

Matt was standing at the entrance to the front building on the pier, his arms crossed and his aviator shades stubbornly in place despite the weather. Though his clothes were soaked and his dark bangs were plastered to his forehead, he offered a smirk in reply to my protest.

"Yeah. I was kinda hoping you'd wear white."

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes, walking up to stand beside him. "You know I had the hardest time getting up here. I could barely see with the rain and all this damn fog."

I refused to let it show, but my heart was still hammering away in my chest. It was still the off season, so the beach was mostly closed down—and in this weather, it was almost completely deserted. The heavy fog and lack of people combined to make me very, very skittish. Matt was lucky I hadn't stood him up. If I had known it would be this bad out here, I wouldn't have come.

"Yeah, same here," the man said with a shrug.

"Why'd you want to come, then?" I asked.

He shrugged again. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

I snorted. "You always say that."

Matt grinned shamelessly at that. It definitely wasn't the first time something like this had happened; he didn't cancel plans. Ever. In fact, he seemed to get a kick out of dragging me places on days like this. Matt himself was practically immune to the weather; I guess in the Army they hadn't done rain checks.

"Damn, it really is foggy…" the man remarked. "You know what this reminds me of?"

"What?" I asked, looking out over the water. It was impossible to see the horizon.

"Silent Hill."

If my self-control hadn't gotten better over the past few years, I would've jerked away from him just then. But I forced myself to remain completely still, fighting to keep my body from tensing up too noticeably. My heartbeat picked up again.

"Um…" I faltered. "Isn't that a movie?"

He rolled his eyes. "Everyone says that. It's a _game series. _The movie was based off the games, and it sucked."

"Oh." I forced a laugh; it came out sounding incredibly fake. "I don't think I saw the movie, anyway."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. I had seen the movie multiple times, played the games so many times I'd lost count. Three years ago I had come home and snapped all of my game discs in half before tossing them in the trash along with my old handbag and everything in it.

"The games are pretty good. Survival horror," Matt offered. "I've got the second and third ones. I could let you borrow them…you've got a PS2, right?"

I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. "No, no, don't bother. I'd probably chicken out halfway through."

"That makes it even funnier," he pointed out with a grin. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You've been sticking to cutesy games lately. What're you gonna do, play Nintendogs for the rest of your life? You're such a girl."

"Wow, I'm glad you've finally figured that out," I replied dully, trying to think of ways to change the subject. My gaming habits were the last thing I wanted to be talking about right now. I couldn't play anything anymore without inwardly questioning if it might actually exist somewhere on a different plane of reality. Violent games freaked me out now.

His grin just grew at that, and he thumped me on the back. "I'll force you to play one of these days. Anyway, I think the arcade's open…ready to lose another game of air hockey?"

"Hey, I'm not _that _bad," I said, glad he had moved on. "You're just a competitive ass."

Matt snorted. "You're oh-for-seven. I'm barely even trying."

"That's it, I'm winning this time," I grumbled.

He just laughed, and we made our way down in the direction of the rides. The beach's tiny amusement park was still closed, but the arcade tended to open a little earlier. I could see from here that the lights and machines inside were on, but it didn't look like a lot of people were there. Shocker. At least the rain was starting to let up a little.

Inside the arcade was about as deserted as I'd thought; I could see a few staff members milling around, but they looked like they had seen all of two customers so far. I paused by the air hockey table as Matt fished around in his pocket. He held a fist out to me.

"Here," he said. Curious, I held out my hand, and he dropped a quarter into it with a smile. "Amuse yourself, kiddo. I've gotta go get change."

"Gee, I guess I'll go get a gumball," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Whatever floats your boat!" He called, already walking away. Then he vanished behind a few games, headed in the direction of the front counter.

I let out a sigh, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms as I waited. I didn't have any change on me, and there probably wasn't anything here that would take a single quarter anyway. He would be back in a minute or two…and he'd probably beat me again. At least Matt paid for all the games.

Bored, I let my eyes wander over all of the different machines and consoles in the arcade. I was a little sad it was such a gloomy day; when it was busy here, I could usually amuse myself by watching some dork attempt to play DDR. Whether they were terrible or really, really good, it was still equally funny. Especially with Matt standing next to me and giving a running commentary like some kind of sarcastic sports announcer.

Alas, it was dead. So I stood against the wall and—

Scratch that thought. My eyes had just fallen on a 25-cent sign—but what was it for? I had to snort when I saw that it was a fortune teller booth with one of those cheesy moving puppets. This one looked like a grizzled old lady, her eyes closed as if in a deep slumber.

Ah, what the hell. It had been a few minutes already (Matt was probably dicking around, hitting on one of the girls at the counter or something), so I'd might as well find something to occupy myself with.

I walked up to the booth, looking it up and down and then shaking my head with a laugh. Then I said farewell to Matt's quarter, putting it in the slot and waiting.

Just like that, the puppet came to life. It opened its eyes, stared at me for a moment, and then kinda…moved around or something (was it supposed to be examining me? What a crock) and then finally came to a stop in its original resting position. A small paper card popped out of the slot on the machine. I picked it up.

One side of the card was a simple list of astrological signs and their corresponding flowers and birthstones. For some reason, Gemini was highlighted—probably one of the employees had been going through the cards or something. Well, it _was _late May, within Gemini's time range…maybe somebody had a birthday this month.

The other side of the card had the heading _Grandmother's Prophesies _printed at the top. A few short phrases were typed beneath it.

_Danger, danger lies ahead_

_Skirt it with a delicate tread_

_Do not stick your chin out_

_Or you'll regret it no doubt._

Of course. The one time I go to one of these silly fortune booths, I get a shitty fortune. What was that supposed to mean, anyway? Oh well. At least it was probably more interesting than a good fortune would've been.

There was no trash can nearby, so I folded up the slip of paper and shoved it in my pocket. Then I walked back over to the air hockey table, looking around. Still no sign of Matt. I checked the time on my phone, deduced that it had been at least ten minutes, and let out an impatient sigh. How long did it take to get change for a couple bucks? He had to be chatting away at the front desk or something.

"What the hell," I muttered, shrugging, and started walking in the direction he had gone. I passed a cluster of games and tables, moving around a wall until the glass desk with all of the prizes came into view. It was well-lit and easy to spot—and nobody was there.

A frown tugged at my lips. Was that what was taking so long? The change machine had broken and Matt was waiting for the staff to fix it? But I could've sworn I had passed one of those machines on my way over here. This arcade was big, and I knew there was more than one.

"…Hello?" I called, walking up to the desk and looking around. It was now that I noticed there was absolutely no one here—the few people I had seen walking around were gone. The arcade suddenly looked deserted.

My frown grew. "Matt. Hey, Matt!"

No answer. It occurred to me that the rain had stopped; I could no longer hear the sound of it falling outside. The quiet in here was abruptly far more noticeable than before.

Where could he have gone? The silence set me on edge. The silence, the shadows, the…

One of the stuffed animals in the prize case was a bright-eyed pink rabbit. Smears of blood surrounded its mouth.

I took in a choked little gasp, adrenaline instantly flowing into my system. The first thing I did was reach for the switchblade I kept in my purse, looking around wildly at my surroundings and feeling very unsafe. It couldn't be…

Something shifted in the shadows up ahead. My muscles tensed as different scenarios flew through my mind and I tried to consider all of the different ways I could be attacked, the best way to counter and dodge, and every possible escape route. This arcade was so cluttered. So many places for things to hide.

Closer. It was coming—

"Brit? Oh, there you are."

Just as I was anticipating a confrontation, out of the shadows came Matt. I stared at him like a deer in headlights, my heart hammering away. What? Just him? Hadn't he heard me calling?

He reached up to run a hand through his bangs. "Where the hell were you? I told you I'd be right back. Why didn't…" Suddenly Matt trailed off, frowning. "You okay? You look like you just crapped yourself."

I erupted in a nervous fit of giggles. "Wow. Thanks. But I'm…fine."

"That wasn't a very convincing lie," he told me, cocking an eyebrow. "What're you reaching into your purse for? Please don't tell me that's pepper spray."

"Guilty as charged," I said with a more confident laugh, zipping my bag back up and relaxing my posture a little. Wasn't like I could tell him I kept an illegal weapon on me. "Sorry, you kinda crept up on me. You know how paranoid I am."

"No shit," he snorted. Something in his expression told me he was still skeptical, but apparently he was going to let it slide. That was what I liked best about Matt.

After the tension had eased a little, I found my eyes wandering back over to the prize case. The stuffed rabbit was gone.

Gone…but the image of those wide eyes and manic grin were forever burned into my mind.

For the remainder of that day, I dismissed the incident as my paranoia getting the better of me. It wouldn't have been the first time my mind had played tricks on me. But I just couldn't shake the chill that had crept over me; my paranoia had always lingered, but paranoia and instinctual alertness were two entirely different things. Paranoia was brought on by tricks of the light, perfectly explainable noises, the smell of rust and machinery and mildew.

Ever since that incident, though, the old alertness I had felt was coming back. Alertness was knowing when to recognize the signs. The fog was one of them. The sudden shift in atmosphere—that was another. When I had been separated from Matt in the arcade, something had changed without warning. The rain had been somehow silenced (it had still been pouring when we left), and everyone had vanished. And that rabbit…I still didn't want to believe I had seen that. That would mean accepting that something definitely was going on here.

…But it had seemed so _real._ Could it have been a hallucination?

It had to have been. I might carry a switchblade and a flashlight on me at all times, but I never wanted to consider the possibility that I might have to use either. It was just one of the many measures I took to help keep the nightmares at bay.

Still, three years had passed. If there was still unfinished business, why would the town have let me leave in the first place? It didn't make sense. So, rather than worry myself over the matter, I carried on with my life and tried to push the incident from my mind.

Not long after that, the night terrors started again.

I hadn't had them consistently since I'd first returned home from that hell. There had been a time where every single night was an ordeal and I had hardly ever gotten any sleep, but eventually I had managed to get past that. Now I had suddenly fallen right back into it.

I could never remember the dreams I had, but it was impossible to forget the fear. I always woke up with a jolt, sweating and breathing hard—as if I'd been screaming. My heart would be pounding hard. Sometimes I spent up to an hour afterwards sitting in the dark, too afraid to move, smelling blood and feeling phantom pain and thinking that something was lurking in the shadows just beyond my peripheral.

Just one single incident had completely destroyed the small sense of normality and safety I had managed to attain.

And, well…as expected, things went downhill from there.

* * *

><p>"…<em>with a high of 70 degrees, tomorrow will bring rain in the morning with scattered thunderstorms in the afternoon. Some thunderstorms may be severe…"<em>

More rain. It never seemed to end at this time of year.

The wipers flung more water away from the windshield, clearing my vision for a split second before it was blurred once more. I was driving through the Blueberry Plains in Kennebunk, on my way to Sanford to meet my father for breakfast. It was about six in the morning…and as usual, it was foggy.

Growing tired with the weather, I reached out to change the station.

"—_do you call when your windshield's busted?"_

"One eight-hundred fifty-four giant," I sang along with the Giant Glass ad out of habit (it had been the same tune for as long as I could remember), laughed at myself, and changed the station once more.

"—_purge the world of filth—"_

My hand faltered as the radio picked up a strange crystal-clear spot of reception between stations. Was that a woman's voice I heard? Slowly, I turned the dial backwards a bit.

"—_resurrect God and create an eternal Paradise. Sacrifice for the sake of Paradise. The blood of sinners will run in the streets. The Holy One—"_

_KZZZZZZZZZZRT!_

The radio suddenly let out an earsplitting burst of static, snapping me out of the shocked reverie I had just been in. Then I noticed how thick the fog had gotten, too thick to even see the road—and just like that, the light faded from the day. It was six in the morning and the world was black.

I slammed on the brakes and pulled my car over on to the side of the road, feeling dangerously close to hyperventilating. I turned on my headlights and saw nothing. My high beams were only reflected by the fog. And still, the static blared on.

"No," I breathed, my hands holding the steering wheel in a vice grip. "No, not real, not real, _not real…"_

There was nothing else I could do. I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel, squeezing my eyes shut and waiting for the static to fade.

At some point later in time—maybe ten minutes, maybe thirty—it did finally fade. And when I opened my eyes again, the fog was beginning to clear…and I could see the sun once more.

* * *

><p>Eventually I decided enough was enough. Something had to be done—but I wasn't sure what, exactly. I didn't know what these strange visions meant, but I knew they were sinister and it was quite possible that…that something was going to happen.<p>

Then one weekend I found myself in downtown Portsmouth, New Hampshire, checking out the shops. It seemed like a safe bet—in a place like that, I could surround myself with people and keep at least one human being in my sight at all times.

I was sitting in a small cafe when I saw a rack of flyers and brochures near the front door. Since I had nothing better to do, I absentmindedly picked through them. Some were vacation flyers, but there were a couple advertising apartments and real-estate in scenic New Hampshire locales. Normally I would've looked right past these; I had no interest in moving to this state.

…But one of the flyers read "South Ashfield Heights".

When I pulled out my phone, I found I was able to locate the city of Ashfield on my GPS. It was just a couple miles northwest of where I was.

It really was going to start again, wasn't it?

I snatched the flyer and before I knew it, I was driving. There was no sense in avoiding it. I needed answers…and until I found them, these weird things were going to keep happening.

To Ashfield, then.

* * *

><p>South Ashfield Heights was a large horseshoe shaped building, and the interior was just the way I remembered it. Of course, it had been a long while since I'd played the fourth game of the series, but some things were kind of hard to forget.<p>

Strangely enough, I didn't get as much of a bad vibe from this place as I thought I would. It just felt like another building to me. What was up with that? I couldn't even enter an arcade in another state without having an ordeal over it, and yet I could go into one of the locations from the series without a hitch?

Still, that wasn't what I was here for. I wanted to get in and out of this building as quickly as possible. It wasn't the building itself I was here to investigate, after all.

Shortly after arriving in Ashfield, I had located a phone book and flipped straight to the S section. There were several Sunderlands in residence in this city—it wasn't exactly an uncommon name—but only one Frank…and only one James. The two names were right next to one another. Same address. Different apartment numbers.

…And beneath James' name—Laura Sunderland. I had to smile at that.

Seeing those familiar names gave me the courage to enter this place on my own. It was as I had hoped…after everything, James had moved back home to his father's apartment building. That was why he wasn't in Hampton anymore. He had adopted Laura and come here.

_You don't have to thank me. You helped me too, you know._

_Well, this isn't over yet…so don't start saying goodbye._

It had been three long years since I'd heard his voice. I had never thought I would hear it again, either. But now…I was standing in his very apartment building. It was hard to believe.

For a moment, standing in the lobby, I had to hesitate. What could I say to him after all this time? He had moved on…

…but so had I, right? That didn't mean we weren't still friends.

I just wasn't sure I could turn to him with this. We'd been through so much; would it be fair to barge into his life and tell him about how Silent Hill seemed to want me back? I had never even revealed the full truth to him—explaining about Maria would mean explaining the game itself, and I just couldn't do that.

_You know you can trust me…right?_

I took a deep breath. Of course I could trust James. I would just play it by ear. It couldn't hurt to at least talk to him…he always did help me feel a little more sane. And if nothing else, at least I could ask him to tell me that everything was going to be okay. Like old times.

Hell…I just wanted to see his face again. To reassure myself that it hadn't all been a delusion.

According to what I'd learned, his apartment was in the east wing hallway on the first floor. I made my way through that set of doors, feeling that odd sense of familiarity all over again. Was I really here, in this supposedly fictional apartment building?

I came to a stop at his door. Right here…this was where he lived. James…he would know what to do. At the very least, he could hear me out and offer some advice. He was the only person that _could _hear me out. Everyone else would refer me to a shrink. My last psychiatrist had been named Koffman, and that alone had been too much for me to handle.

Taking a deep breath, I reached up and rapped lightly on the door.

No one came to answer—but it swung open slightly. My brow furrowed; that was strange. Why was the door already ajar like that? James was a little on the absentminded side, but he had to have gotten his act together at least a little in the past three years. Him leaving the door open to the world when he had a young girl living with him just seemed wrong.

Concerned, I pushed the door open a little further. A lamp was on in what looked like the apartment's living room, but other than that it was dark. It was still early evening, so neither of them would be in bed yet. Nobody home, then?

"…Hello?" I called. Despite the state of the door, it thankfully didn't look like the place had been ransacked in the meantime.

I wandered a little further into the room, looking around with a frown. "James? Are you home?"

This was unmistakably James' apartment. For one thing, it just…I don't know, _smelled _like him. Okay, maybe it was a little creepy that I knew that, but god knew I had hugged the guy enough times to be able to tell. That and the simple, practical way it was furnished just screamed James' personality. There was a pink backpack on one end of the living room sofa; it was crammed full of school supplies. That had to be Laura's.

I wandered in a bit more, stepping lightly and looking around. Why was there a lamp on if nobody was home? Maybe James just didn't care about the electric bill?

Said lamp was on an end table next to the couch. Beneath the lamp was a framed photograph. When I picked it up, a small smile formed on my lips. Laura was in the center of the picture, surrounded by friends. On a table in front of her was a big birthday cake, and Laura was getting ready to blow out the candles. Oh—and over to the left, there was James, Awkward Dad of the Year, wearing a tired smile on his face.

My own smile turned into a full-fledged grin and I shook my head. He probably thought he was a crappy father, too. But from the looks of this photograph, he was doing just fine. I couldn't wait to see him and tell him that.

…But where was he? Why wasn't he here? Something about this just seemed…

"Still following him?"

The sudden voice jolted me out of my thoughts and I took in a harsh gasp, dropping the frame to the floor. The glass shattered.

"Shit," I whispered automatically, feeling a flash of guilt—until I remembered why I had dropped the photo in the first place. I swung around to find the source of the voice.

The brown haired man just smiled slyly, reaching up to push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. That unsettling gaze was one I couldn't forget. Vincent.

"What…?" No. Hell no. This couldn't be happening, not _him, _not _here._ Dread hit me like a wall. His presence couldn't mean anything good. It certainly didn't do anything but worsen the growing fears I'd been feeling over the past two weeks.

He just shook his head. "Even after all this time…what were you expecting to find here, anyway?"

It didn't look like anything about him had changed since our last meeting. He _did _look a little older, and he was dressed in the same attire he wore in Silent Hill 3, but other than that he was the same frustrating man.

"Th-That's…none of your business," I retorted, feeling shaky. "What are _you _doing here? Why are you in James' apartment? You're the one that opened the door…that's breaking and entering. I should call the cops…" The threat felt pretty flimsy.

He seemed to sense my doubt, because that infuriating smile grew. He held up his hands in an appeasing gesture. "I'm only here because I had a feeling this was where you would come. But I don't understand…you look so unhappy to see me. Your hostility wounds me, Brittany."

My entire body tensed. "I never told you my name."

"Oh? This seems familiar, doesn't it?" He said gleefully, a wicked glint in his eyes. That shut me up.

Instead I gritted my teeth for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts long enough to think of what to say. I was still too shocked at this sudden development to do anything but get angry. Vincent had no right to be here. After three years…why was he showing up now? Why _now, _for fuck's sake?

"You said you were here…waiting for me?" I tried, watching him carefully. "Why?"

"I thought I would suggest a few more…_productive _ways of spending your time," he replied, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "Surely you've noticed by now. Your involvement in this isn't quite over yet."

"_No_," I said vehemently, taking a step forward and clenching my fists. "It _is _over. I don't want any more to do with that screwy town."

He shook his head again. "I think you misunderstand. _I'm _not the one pulling the strings here."

That caused me to pause. Those strange visions…the static…the voice on the radio…no, Vincent wasn't capable of that. But if it wasn't him, then…no. Why would _she _be involving me in this?

"That's right," Vincent said, smirking as if he had seen the moment I made the connection. "I'm on your side. I only came here to give you a little advice. I helped you back then, remember? Don't you trust me?"

Translation: I'm here to manipulate you.

"About as far as I can throw you," I retorted, scowling. My hand was already on the doorknob. This conversation was scaring me and I felt the need to get out as soon as possible.

But that wasn't going to work. Vincent, of course, wasn't done talking.

"If you're going to search for someone," he called, "find Heather Mason."

"Find her yourself," I snapped, glaring over my shoulder. "I'm going home." And maybe developing a drinking problem.

"This isn't something you can run fr—"

His voice was cut off as I closed the door on him mid-sentence. The action wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped it would be. Immediately I began walking down the hallway in the direction of the lobby, my heart still pounding from the encounter.

Instead of finding James and some form of comfort, I had run into one of the last people I wanted to see. Now I was even more riled up than before. Too much information had been piled on me at once, and my mind was frantically trying to sort through it all.

One thing was for certain: it wasn't the _town _drawing me inthis time. Somehow I had caught the interest of The Order. But why? What did they want with me, anyway? Were they just pissed that I had escaped their precious hellhole?

If Claudia was the one pulling the strings…there was just no way for me to know her intentions. At the very least, I could trust Vincent to direct me in the exact opposite direction.

But I didn't want anyone directing me anywhere! This was _my life, _for fuck's sake, and I wasn't just some pawn for these crazy cult members to use. I had enough memories of Silent Hill to last me a lifetime, and I was _not _getting involved in that shit again.

I sighed, pushing through the double doors and heading back out into the lobby. There had to be some way I could escape all of this. Some way I could get out of their reach…

If there wasn't, I didn't know what I would do.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And so it begins. I have a little bit more written, but I'm saving it. Still have a few ideas floating around...not a concrete plot. Vincent's going to be so much fun, though. :D**

**Sorry if it seems a little...rushed? I don't know? The pacing of this chapter doesn't feel right to me in certain areas. Oh well. First chapters are always a little awkward.**

**Reviews will be very much appreciated. Feel free to tell me what you liked and didn't like, any theories you have, etc etc. :D I like hearing it all.**

**Next time: Where's James, anyway? And other adventures!**


	2. Welcome Home

**A/N: NO WAY. I'm still alive? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLEEEE**

**Well, I finally managed to pull together a chapter! Woohoo! Sorry I couldn't update sooner, as my life's been pretty hectic and writer's block hasn't helped at all, haha. I'm really trying not to let my writing hobby die, no matter how hard it is to find inspiration for it nowadays. D: At least Downpour's keeping me occupied, though the lack of Yamaoka-induced eargasms just makes me sad.**

**ANYWAY. Here you go, guys-the long-awaited continuation! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"It's you!"<p>

The voice came from the direction of the stairs, causing me to jump and swing around. When I saw the familiar face, though, I had to let out a shaky sigh of relief.

She'd grown up quite a bit in the past few years—I almost hadn't recognized her. Laura was at least a head taller now, possessing the bony, lanky body of an eleven-year-old. She had abandoned the old overall dress in favor of a frilly tank top and a pair of jeans. Her hair was a bit of a darker blond now, closer to James' color, and it had grown out just past the small of her back.

A smile had formed on my lips before I knew it. "Hi, Laura."

"You're…Brittany, right?" She asked hesitantly, frowning from her seat on the bottom step.

"I'm surprised you remember me," I said, putting my hands in my pockets and resisting the urge to sneak a glance at the hallway door. I didn't want her to head home right away if Vincent was gonna be hanging out in her apartment.

"James talks about you sometimes," she admitted, the troubled look still on her face. "Why are you here?"

I blinked. Was I not wanted? "I, uh…came to visit, actually. I know it's been a long time, but…where is James, anyway?"

Laura huffed, the old attitude I remembered finally showing through. She got to her feet, scowling. "I don't get it. Why didn't you call each other or something? Now he went to find you and you came here and it's just stupid 'cause you coulda just told each other!"

My brow furrowed. "…Wait, what? James left to visit me?"

"Uh huh," she confirmed.

"But he doesn't know where I live," I pointed out.

"He said you were in Silent Hill," Laura replied. "Some weird guy came and then James wanted to leave all of a sudden. I'm stuck staying with Grandpa until he gets back."

My blood ran cold. "Vincent? Was that the guy's name?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. He was annoying."

Vincent, for sure.

"…When was this, Laura?"

"Um…just this morning."

I wanted to scream. I had _just _missed him. If I had only figured this all out yesterday…

…But it was too late for that now. Right before we had left Silent Hill those years ago, we had separated. James had gone to talk Laura into coming with us, and I had gone ahead to wait for them. But instead of going to James' car, I had somehow ended up back home. From James' perspective, I had completely vanished. He had probably thought I was dead.

Then with Vincent showing up at his door and telling him otherwise…he must've got it into his head that he had to go save me or something. And worst of all, I had mentioned Vincent's name to James before—he had reason to trust the man, when he was really only being manipulated.

A wave of anger hit me. Vincent. That bastard—he wanted me in Silent Hill, and he knew just how to get me there, didn't he? _Fuck! _I couldn't just turn away and ignore this. What if something happened? What if James never came back and it was _my fault?_

"What's wrong?" Laura was watching me carefully, so I fought to regain my composure.

I shook my head. "Nothing. It's fine. I'm gonna head out there and meet up with James then, all right? Just hang tight, we'll be back soon."

"Hurry up, then," she demanded. "I hate staying with Grandpa…it's so boring, and his apartment smells weird."

Grandpa…Frank? That remark almost caused me to let out a morbid little laugh—only it wasn't so funny anymore, because the disturbing reason behind the smell was no longer fictional.

"I'll try," I told her, a little bemused. Then I turned for the door, knowing it probably wasn't a good idea to linger here. "See you in a bit, Laura."

"Bye," she said, looking glum at the prospect of being alone again.

The front doors opened with a slow creak, almost as if they were reluctant to let me leave. I moved out on to the front walkway, digging through my pocket for my car keys. My mind was racing.

What could I do? Somehow I knew finding the town would be ridiculously easy now that I needed to go there again. But not yet...no, I couldn't go just yet. I needed to make sure I was prepared. First I had to head home and gather up all of the things I would need.

...Shit. I was really going to do this, wasn't I?

For James, I had to. It didn't matter that I was already shaking at the very thought of it. I had braved that town before. I could do it again.

Something was happening in Silent Hill...the line between realities was blurring again. What was The Order stirring up now, and why the hell did I have to be a part of it?

I paused, turning to glance over my shoulder. Suddenly the apartments of Ashfield Heights seemed infinitely foreboding. The horseshoe-shaped building seemed to almost draw me in. So many awful things were going to happen here. I almost wanted to go back in and warn Henry...but even if by some miracle he was actually there and I convinced him to move out, wouldn't that just be damning whoever moved in to room 302 after him?

No...there was nothing I could do. I just had to hope getting James and Laura out of here would be enough. But I had to get James out of Silent Hill first.

When I turned away from the building again, something had changed. For a moment it was hard to put my finger on it—had the shadows shifted? Was the light dimmer? The air just a little colder?

That wasn't it. What was different was that I wasn't alone on the path anymore. Beneath one of the trees lining the walkway sat a single man, the angle of the sunlight causing his features to be nothing more than a silhouette. I could see the shoulder-length hair, and that was enough.

His appearance wasn't abrupt. Somehow, I knew he had been there the entire time.

It took a great amount of willpower to keep walking. This was the only path leading to the parking lot. There were exit doors on the east and west wings of the building as well, but that would involve me going back inside. I couldn't do that when he was sitting there in plain sight. Not when things looked all skewed like this, like the building was going to eat me...

I closed my eyes briefly, taking a breath. This distorted perception...it was a bad sign. I had to get out of here.

When I opened my eyes again, nothing had changed. That man was still sitting there. I kept walking, my movements stiff.

The sound of Walter Sullivan's voice was what caused me to stop in my tracks, standing a mere four feet from where he was sitting. He hadn't looked up, but I knew beyond a doubt that it was me he was addressing.

"And God said, offer the Blood of the Ten Sinners and the White Oil," he recited quietly. "Be then released from the bonds of the flesh, and gain the Power of Heaven. From the Darkness and Void, bring forth Gloom, and gird thyself with Despair for the Giver of Wisdom."

I stood frozen, listening to the words and wishing I didn't understand them so well. Somehow I knew I needed to keep walking, to get _out, _but my legs didn't want to respond.

My mouth went dry when the man smiled, lifting his head to serenely meet my gaze. He almost seemed to be looking through me for a moment—but then I realized that that wasn't quite it. It was like...he wasn't really _seeing _me the way normal people did. Like I was something less than human to him.

Somehow I knew I wasn't reading too much into it.

"Darkness will fall soon," he told me. "This place...is not for The Order."

"I'm not with them," I assured him quietly, fighting to keep my voice steady. "And if you want Vincent to leave, you'll have to tell him yourself. I'm getting out of here."

Walter smiled as if to a private joke. Chills raced down my spine in response. Just what was he thinking?

"Go, then," he said, looking almost smug. "Silent Hill awaits."

I almost felt dizzy at those words. So many questions came to mind in that instant, but I forced myself to turn away and start walking. My survival instincts overrode my need to know—somehow I doubted I would be able to get any answers out of that man.

Silent Hill...Jesus Christ. Did everyone know what was going on but me?

Just put one foot in front of the other. Keep walking. Don't look back.

"Your blood will open the path to Paradise..."

The voice faded, and then South Ashfield Heights allowed me to leave. I walked up to the nearest trash bin in the parking lot and threw up.

* * *

><p>The forty-minute drive back to my apartment was a blur. Somehow I focused enough not to get into an accident, but my mind was far from the present. One minute I was going through a toll booth in New Hampshire, and the next I was getting off the highway exit near my apartment.<p>

I whipped into the parking lot for my complex, immediately getting out of my car and fishing for my door key.

Upon entering my apartment, I headed for the closet in my room, where I had set aside some things in case something like this should ever happen. For three years I had been telling myself that it was over, that keeping this stuff was crazy and I needed to let go of the past—now I understood that I had been wrong, and I was immensely grateful that I'd had the foresight to do this.

In my bedroom closet was a mid-sized suitcase and a tote bag. Into the suitcase went as many clothing articles as I could fit; I made sure to vary the materials and types of clothing to suit different situations. For good measure, I also threw in a pair of leather gloves. All of this stuff was going into the trunk of my car. There was no guarantee that I'd ever get to use it, but I was bringing it regardless.

Next came the tote bag—what I would be carrying with me at all times. I put in two bottles of water, as well as some granola bars and trail mix. The flashlight and switchblade were transferred over from my purse. My cell phone, fully charged, was included, along with a pocket radio and some spare batteries. I also placed a fully equipped first-aid kit in the bag; definitely couldn't go without that.

Then I took a black folder from a shelf in my closet and slipped that into the bag, too. It contained a printed copy of every map ever shown in the Silent Hill games. The most prominent areas, including the town map itself, were at the front of the pile. There was also a sheet of paper covered in notes I had taken—history of the town, The Order, details about the different locations that I was fuzzy on—everything that wasn't firmly entrenched in my memory was in that folder. If I had to go back, I was sure as hell going to be prepared this time.

One final addition was necessary, and it was in a safe that only I knew the combination to.

The sleek black metal of my Glock 21 shined coldly in the late afternoon sun coming in through my bedroom window. I contemplated the gun for a moment, ejected the magazine to make sure it was loaded, and then slipped it back into its holster. That was placed into my bag with as many spare bullets as I could carry.

Naturally, none of my friends or family knew that I kept a deadly weapon hidden in my room. That was a little secret kept between me and the federal government.

My license only allowed me to keep the gun at home. It didn't permit me to carry it concealed on my person, and I would be facing some very serious charges if I was caught.

I wouldn't be caught.

It was time to get moving.

* * *

><p>Halfway through loading all of my crap into my car, my nerves finally gave out. I slumped against the vehicle for a moment, tasting old bile on my tongue and resisting the sobs that were threatening to come out.<p>

After about half a minute of this, I took a deep breath and forced myself to get behind the wheel. I needed to get somewhere isolated so I could get my emotions under control. Somewhere that might relax me a little...

The thought of relaxation was nothing more than a distant dream, but I finally stopped my car at York Beach—it was a familiar place where I liked to drop by on my days off. And at this time of year, it was empty.

I parked my car, getting out and sitting on the hood as I stared out at the ocean. The sky was free of clouds. Seagulls soared overhead, some of them landing on nearby benches to stare expectantly at me. The presence of animals was comforting; it reminded me that I was still a part of reality.

"The hell've you been? I called you three times."

The sudden voice caused me to jump and reach for my bag—luckily it was on the passenger seat of my car, or else Matt would've had the business end of a gun shoved in his face just then.

I breathed out a shaky sigh. "...Never heard the phone ring. Nice to see you too, Matt."

"Hmm..." He replied by sitting next to me, pulling a pack of cigarettes from an inside pocket of his coat. "Well, I went to Portland all by my lonesome because of you. What did you do that was so important?"

"Nothing," I lied. "Went to Portsmouth for a haircut."

Matt frowned, pulling his aviators down slightly to get a better look at me. "Ah, I see it now."

I snorted despite myself. Asshole...I had gotten the haircut three weeks ago and he hadn't noticed till now, despite seeing me almost every day.

"You still look like hell, though," he remarked, lighting a cigarette. When I smacked him, he just held his hands up defensively. "Just being honest! You're so pale I can practically see through you."

"I'm fine," I snapped. The last thing I needed right now was close scrutiny...why couldn't Matt let this slide like he'd done so many times before?

"Uh huh," he replied, raising an eyebrow. Then he shrugged, taking a long drag from his cigarette before offering it to me.

I reached out and took it, taking a short puff and immediately breaking out into a coughing fit. Next thing I knew, Matt had snatched the smoke out of my hand, placing one hand on my back and attempting to help me get it under control.

"Jesus!" He said when I finally calmed down, lowering his hand and leaning forward to see my face better. It was impossible to see his eyes through the sunglasses he wore, but from the way he was gaping, it was probably safe to assume that my actions had surprised him.

I cleared my throat, swallowing and almost cringing at the awful taste that had left in my mouth. On the bright side, the burning feeling in my throat had served to clear my head a little, bring everything into better focus.

We were silent for a few seconds as Matt stared me down, the look on his face suddenly serious.

"...What's going on?" He reached up to take off his aviators. It was a gesture he only performed when he really meant business; this was a side of Matt that I didn't see often.

Not that it was surprising. He offered me a cigarette almost every single time he lit up—he'd offer and I'd refuse. It was a stupid habit we had fallen into, his way of being a pain in the ass. Not once in two years had I ever caved. Except for now.

"Don't think I haven't noticed," he said before I could respond. "You've been acting like a complete basket case ever since that day we went to the arcade."

I looked away, but he persisted, gripping one of my shoulders tightly and leaning over to meet my gaze.

"Look, I know I never pry," he told me in a stern voice, "but I know a bad situation when I see one. You're even jumpier than usual, and that's saying something."

"I'm just stressed," I mumbled, crossing my arms and staring out at the water. "Maybe I need more sleep or something. There's no need to get all freaked out, Matt."

"Will you _please _be fucking straight with me for once?" he growled. "I _know _something's up. I swear to god, if you don't tell me who's been giving you trouble, I'm going to find them myself and mess them up."

That made me flinch a little, and I glanced over at him cautiously. "...What are you talking about?"

He glared. "I stopped by your apartment earlier before checking here. Your mail was overflowing on to the floor, so I figured I'd grab some of it for you. A lot of it wasn't even in envelopes—just a bunch of writing scrawled over dirty paper. Sounded like biblical passages or something...creepy as all hell."

The thought of it made my skin crawl. I had just checked my mail this morning...my mailbox had been empty. Had someone been to my apartment since then? This was bad. They knew where I lived...but who was 'they'? The Order? It didn't matter.

Matt couldn't know about this. I was well aware of what Silent Hill had done to me—its effects weren't something you could shrug off. It was almost like the adrenaline high from all the fear had never faded completely; all it took was the slightest trigger to set me off all over again.

He already had more than enough of his own baggage from his time in the military. I didn't know what he had seen or done in that period of his life, but I had zero doubt that Silent Hill would home right in on it. There was no way I could put him through that.

Part of me was terrified of doing this alone...but it would be selfish of me to involve him, wouldn't it?

"The mail," I said abruptly, thinking of something. "Do you have it?"

"...Some of it," he replied with a frown. "Why?"

I shook my head. "I'll admit it, okay? Something is very wrong—but I need to see what's in those letters. Please, Matt."

He stared me down for a few seconds, before letting out a sigh and donning his aviators once more. "Fine. Just give me a sec, they're in my car."

Now I nodded, my heart pounding as I watched him walk off to where he was parked a little ways away. He opened his passenger side door, bending over to dig through his glove box.

No time to waste. I stood up, pulling my keys out of my pocket and getting into my own car.

Matt looked up when he heard the sound of the engine starting. He yelled something that sounded suspiciously like a profanity—but I wasn't listening. I backed out of the space and peeled out of the small parking lot, my tires squealing.

In the rearview mirror, I saw him throw up his arms with disgust, watching me leave.

It kind of hurt to think that this might be the last I ever saw of him.

* * *

><p>The drive up to Silent Hill was quite possibly the longest drive of my life. I didn't miss the way the clouds had begun to move in the minute I entered New Hampshire, blotting out the sun. The volume of cars on the highway gradually dwindled until I was the only one left. Considering the fact that it was still midday, this was too bizarre to be a coincidence.<p>

Finally, I came upon the exit sign labelled "Silent Hill". I had been down this stretch of highway dozens of times, and I knew for a fact that that sign did _not _exist.

But it did. The exit ramp appeared through the fog (I didn't even bother trying to figure out when the fog had closed in), and I signaled to the empty highway that I was turning in.

I took it slow down the ramp, watching for any signs of movement. The fog continued to press in; I held the steering wheel in an iron grip. My hands were trembling already.

The sign at the end of the ramp read Nathan Avenue. Pleasant River was 4 miles east, while Silent Hill was 1 mile to the west. I took a left, turning on my fog lights and the car radio. As expected, there was no reception—just very faint white noise.

After a few seconds of driving, a small building became visible through the fog. I realized suddenly that it was the same run-down rest stop overlooking Toluca Lake where the story of Silent Hill 2 began.

The only car in the parking lot was a pale blue Oldsmobile; I parked next to it, immediately getting out to examine it.

That model and that color...they both looked right. This couldn't be his car, could it? Did that mean...?

The vehicle was empty, but the doors were unlocked. I opened the driver side door and got in, sitting down. The car was relatively clean, other than an empty bottle of Poland Spring sitting in one of the cup holders.

I reached into the glove box and pulled out the first piece of paper my hand came into contact with. It was the car's insurance card. The policy holder was listed as James Sunderland of South Ashfield, New Hampshire.

So it was his. How long ago had he been sitting in this very spot, contemplating the events of three years ago? Where could he be now?

This was James' car. Now I at least knew part of the path he had taken...I was one step closer to finding him.

I got out of his car and went over to mine, pulling out my bag and putting on the gun holster. The pocket radio was clipped to my belt and turned on. Then I reached into my glove box, pulling out my own insurance card and fixing it so it stood up against the driver side window.

There. If James returned, he had a way of knowing that I had in fact been here.

I was unable to resist the urge to lock up the car; somehow I felt that if I didn't, I'd return to find the contents of my suitcase missing or strewn haphazardly across the parking lot. Silent Hill had a terrible sense of humor.

Okay. Now that that was all said and done, it was time to get going.

My first instinct was to head directly for the forest path, but upon closer inspection, I saw that it was completely blocked off with junk. Wood pallets, traffic cones, oil barrels, and various pieces of equipment were all placed at and around the entrance. I could try climbing the fence, but there was too much of a drop on the other side for it to be worth it.

Now I frowned, taking a look at my other option—the tunnel. It had been blocked off last time.

I walked over to it, pulling the flashlight out of my bag and switching it on. The beam was bright and powerful—I'd made sure to get the best quality one I could find. The light revealed a tunnel that was littered with debris, but otherwise passable.

...Passable on foot, anyway. I glanced longingly back at my car. My Tiburon was low to the ground, not meant for moving over any sort of rugged terrain. Should've stolen my sister's Jeep for this trip...

Not that it mattered. I was sure having a car in the town wouldn't make much of a difference; even the best car would probably die at the worst opportunity, leaving me surrounded by a bunch of monsters. No, I was better off not making such a noticeable entrance.

I stood at the mouth of the tunnel, frowning deeply. This route was much shorter than the forest path, and it led right into town...but...

The darkness looked almost impenetrable, and I was about to walk right into it.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths...

I steeled myself and took step after step forward, the pitch blackness slowly swallowing me. The static emitting from the radio became more noticeable, but not to an alarming point. I found myself straining my senses, wired from adrenaline.

Piles of warped, twisted scrap metal barred my way; I climbed over and around them, cautiously avoiding anything that looked sharp.

I was unsurprised to find an overturned wheelchair in the center of the road, one wheel slowly turning. I passed it by.

Just a little further. This tunnel was less than a mile long...it couldn't be that much further, right? If I squinted hard enough, I could see a faint red glow up ahead.

Red...that didn't seem right. Dusk wasn't for another few hours.

It didn't matter; turning back wasn't an option now. The road abruptly became clear, so I broke out into a light jog. The light grew ever closer.

Then it was right in front of me. There was no other end to the tunnel—just a wall made of some strange black stone, and painted on the wall was an enormous, glowing Halo of the Sun.

I slowed to a stop when I understood what I was looking at, my stomach churning.

"Motherfucker," I whispered, shaking. Someone had anticipated my coming here, was that it? I couldn't go this way. I didn't want to follow any predetermined path—I just wanted to find James and get out.

But just as I turned back, the radio exploded into static. I saw something huge shift just beyond the flashlight's beam, heard a faint moan. The static grew ever louder. Tendrils of blood seeped into the light, the darkness starting to close in like a sentient being.

My heart leapt into overdrive. That was the Otherworld closing in. And what was that monster? That fleshy thing I couldn't see, something too large to be stopped by a mere bullet...

Now I turned back to the ritual circle, my entire body shaking with unspent energy, everything screaming at me to move forward and away from the abomination behind me.

I knew what my only choice was—to give in and let the town swallow me whole again.

In a sick and twisted way, it was kind of a relief. Three long years spent being afraid for no reason, jumping at shadows, constantly wracked with paranoia...

How pathetic...this was the only world I understood anymore.

I reached out and placed my hand in the center of the Halo. The red light grew in intensity until it enveloped me completely.

The static abruptly cut to silence, and everything faded to black.

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><p><strong>AN: And now the real fun begins. B) What does the town have in store this time? HMMMM.**

**Reviews, of course, are always welcome and much-appreciated. Feel free to speculate, because it entertains me! XD**

**Next time: Oh, hiya Heather!**


	3. Rehabilitation

**A/N: I'M BAAAACK! Not that I ever went anywhere. Working two jobs is kind of time-consuming, y'know? Also, writer's block is a bitch. Thank you all for being so patient with me!**

**Well, as usual I finished a chapter at one in the freaking morning, so I better get on with it so I can catch some shuteye. Enjoy the next installment, everyone! ;D**

* * *

><p>Everything was cast in hues of orange and gold due to the fading light of the sun, which was slowly but surely sinking below the horizon. Though the temperature had dropped to a comfortable degree, the day was still warm and humid. The light combined with the haze caused my surroundings to look soft, almost out-of-focus. A small part of my mind was telling me that this weather didn't fit the season, and that I had no idea where I was, but somehow none of it seemed to matter.<p>

"I think our waiter forgot about us." He spoke, snapping me back to the present, and I remembered just why everything else was inconsequential.

I looked up to see him smiling in that reticent manner of his, the smile that never quite reached his eyes. Still, this was a step up from what I was used to, and I couldn't help but smile back at the joke.

Sneaking a glace back inside the small cafe, I just snorted. "I think he just rearranged his priorities. Sweet-talking the girl at the counter seems to top the list at the moment. I guess getting a good tip is at the bottom..."

He chuckled slightly at my remark. "It's fine. I remember being that age."

"Of course. You were a regular Casanova, weren't you, James?" It was impossible to hold back a grin.

The blond shook his head, hiding his own smile with the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip. It had been a while, but it looked like bantering with him was just as easy as it had always been.

We were sitting outside at a coffee shop. There was a sign bearing its name high up on the wall to my right, but I couldn't quite read it from this angle. The amount of cars passing by and the height of the buildings around us suggested we were in a city, though the name of this place still continued to elude me.

How odd, after all this time, to suddenly find myself having coffee with him. It seemed just like something we would do, too.

Conversation with him came naturally, though there were some moments that were a little awkward. We were strangers, and yet close friends; we had been side-by-side through some of our darkest moments, but we knew next to nothing about each other. He was twelve years older than me—hard to relate to in normal circumstances. We made it work somehow. Through the blood and the agony and the terror, a strong bond had been formed.

"...How have things been for you?" James asked after a moment, his expression sobering. I heard the meaning behind his words—_how have you adjusted? _The look in his eyes suggested that moving on from the horrors of three years ago had been hell for him too.

"Fine," I replied quietly. Then I realized how clipped the response sounded, and attempted to elaborate. "It's...a little easier now. I guess you could say I'm a little less jumpy. What about you?"

He cracked a weak smile. "About the same. Laura...she's helped. You had someone to help you through it all, didn't you?"

I thought of Matt, and then nodded. "I guess so. I missed you, though."

"Yeah..." His eyes grew foggy.

"Hey, James?" I frowned, remembering something. A sense of urgency...I was supposed to be doing something, wasn't I?

"Hmm?"

"I came looking for you because..." The reason danced just beyond my reach. "There was something I...I needed to..."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean? I'm the one who came to find you."

Our surroundings abruptly darkened as the sun finally vanished behind the trees, the light deepening from red to violet.

"No." I shook my head, confused. How _had _James and I ended up here? "That's not..."

"I went to Silent Hill," he said. Then he faltered, placing his coffee cup down with a shaking hand. "But you weren't...no...you were never..."

"James?" I didn't like that lost look he suddenly wore; I remembered it all too well.

He looked up to meet my gaze. His eyes were pained.

"Brittany...you're dead, aren't you?"

My heart stopped.

In the background, a siren had begun its slow wail. Stiffening, I looked around, noticing the way the buildings around us had deteriorated. I knew where this was. When I turned back to the table, James was gone.

The tablecloth was soaked with blood. A large moth landed in my coffee with a loud _plop._

"...I guess there are things worse than death," I mumbled, picking the insect up by one wing. It squirmed feebly, stirring up dark memories.

The siren had reached an ear-splitting pitch. Creatures moved in the fog. I got to my feet, and watched as the past closed in on me.

* * *

><p><em>They've come to witness the beginning. The rebirth of Paradise, despoiled by mankind...<em>

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><p>Awakening was not exactly a pleasant experience. It started with me drowsily shifting position and reaching for the blankets, only for my hand to meet empty air. There were no blankets. My bed felt suspiciously like carpet, and my back ached.<p>

Memories crept into my mind as I slowly dragged myself out of sleep. Then came the image of a glowing red Halo at the end of a dark tunnel, and the vivid feeling of being devoured. I shot up into a sitting position.

There was a loud _thwack _as my head connected with something hard, and I fell back down with a hiss. What the...?

Finally I opened my eyes and saw solid wood above me. I shifted my legs, feeling one of them connect with the wheels of an office chair, pushing it aside.

...I was lying underneath a desk. Beautiful.

More carefully this time, I pushed myself up and ducked out from beneath the desk. I gripped the wood and pulled myself to my feet, standing up a little shakily. My flashlight was turned on and lying on its side on the desk, the only source of illumination in the room. I picked it up with a frown. My handgun was still holstered, but my bag was nowhere to be found.

Somehow I wasn't surprised. But that didn't stop the sinking feeling in my stomach. Had all of my preparation been for nothing?

No, I couldn't think like that...I just had to take the situation and make the best of it. I had been much worse off than this before. As long as I had a weapon and a light source, I could get by.

First of all, I needed to figure out where I had been dumped. Now I raised the flashlight, shining it around the room. The center of the room had a series of desks cluttered with papers, computers, and various office supplies. The wall behind me was lined with cubicles.

It didn't take much for me to figure out that this was some sort of office building. The Hilltop Center? But that wasn't even in Silent Hill, was it? Why would I have woken up here?

My brow furrowed slightly. Heather had to be here. Vincent wanted me to find Heather...did Claudia want me to as well? If they had different goals, that didn't seem right...I wasn't getting the whole picture.

The Hilltop Center. Well, this was just great. What was I supposed to do here?

James had been sucked into this by The Order as well. For all I knew, he could be wandering around a floor below me, looking for a way out.

James...

I paused, suddenly remembering the dream. My conversation with him, his words and his reactions...it had all been so realistic. So like _him. _Could it really have been just a dream, an invention of my own mind? It felt like I had been so close to being reunited with him, only to be yanked away at the last minute. The burn of longing was like a physical pain now—I knew it was because there was no guarantee I would ever see him again.

He had asked me if I was dead. For all I knew, he was the one that was...

I shook my head. Dwelling on that sort of thing wasn't going to get me anywhere; I was here now, I had crossed the threshold into unreality. Now that I was here, there was nothing I could do but see this through to the end. That meant finding him...whether he was alive or not.

Before anything else, I needed a plan. What was I going to do after I left this room?

An image from the dream floated to the front of my mind. The cafe we'd been at had been on a street corner...I could remember catching a glimpse of the green signs as I had looked around. They had read _Katz St. _and _Neely St._

Neely, as in Neely's Bar. I closed my eyes, thinking. Across the street had been a restaurant called Big Jay's. Other than that, I couldn't remember anything significant.

I ached for my collection of maps now. Neely Street...the bar was on the southern edge of town, and St. Stella's Church was on the corner of Neely and Nathan Avenue. This cafe had to be somewhere near the center of town.

Okay. It wasn't much to go on, but it was better than nothing. I would go and find the place from the dream...maybe it would yield some clues.

First I needed to get out of here...and hopefully find my missing supplies along the way.

I frowned at the room, scanning my surroundings once more. Was there anything here that I could use as a melee weapon? No...I could probably hit something with a chair if I really needed to, but the reality was that nothing here would be worth taking. It looked like I had just the gun for now. It was fully loaded with the maximum thirteen rounds—still, I was going to have to resort to fleeing at every available opportunity.

Now I moved towards the single door out of the room. Words were printed on the front of the door's window; I shined the flashlight on them, reading them backwards through the glass. KMN Auto Parts.

That was familiar. I frowned slightly, thinking. This was where Heather got the jack, right? The jack was used to open up the elevator doors, so...this had to be the top floor. The fifth? Sixth? I couldn't really remember. Where the _hell _were those maps...

Lowering the flashlight, I leaned forward and put my ear to the door, peering outside the window as well as I could at the same time. It was a little too dark out there to see...and I couldn't hear anything big shifting around out there, so that was good. The last thing I needed was to get tackled by an Insane Cancer the minute I left the room.

I shuddered at that thought. If I was going to be dealing with those things, I was going to need a _lot _more firepower. Shit.

Finally I turned the knob. The door opened with a quiet creak. I let it swing open, standing clear of the doorway and holding my breath.

...Nothing.

Okay...okay. Nothing in my immediate vicinity. That was good.

Already I had broken out in a cold sweat. It had been so long. Though I was more prepared now than I had been before, the fear still hit me just as quickly.

I swallowed and stepped out into the hallway, shining the light around. Nothing jumped out to attack me.

Thankfully—or maybe not so much, considering my current predicament—the surroundings were familiar to me. I remembered that this office building followed a similar layout on every floor; there were small hallways with rooms devoted to each particular business, while the central area held two elevators and a door to the stairwell. I needed to access the elevators to get out of here. And if the same paths were blocked off like they had been in the game, well...I guess I was going to be doing Heather's work for her. At least there was no one around to get suspicious at my strange knowledge of the area.

Moving down the corridor, I held the flashlight in my left hand and the gun in my right. The hallway was dead silent. I turned the corner and reached the door I had been seeking. Using two fingers while keeping a firm grip on the flashlight, I slowly turned the knob until I felt the latch come free. Then I backed off, waiting a second before I nudged the door fully open with one foot.

For a moment all I was met with was silence and darkness. I tensed, listening, hyperaware.

There it was. The sound of breathing other than my own. Familiar—almost like...panting? Where was it coming from? Too close.

_Left!_

My mind screamed the answer at the last moment and I heard an earsplitting howl, understanding that the Double Head had been standing close to the wall just outside my line of vision. I heard claws scrape against tile and reacted immediately, holstering the gun to free up one hand. Lunging forward, I grabbed the doorknob once more and yanked it towards me.

The door closed on the monster's left shoulder—it had managed to get one of its forelegs in the doorway. It let out another choked cry, struggling to get through the door. I hit it on the head with the flashlight, using my other hand to hold the door shut as well as I could.

My heart kicked into overdrive when I heard an answering howl come from behind me. I dared to turn my head and saw a second Double Head barreling towards me—where the hell had it come from?! Shit, _shit!_

I was spread dangerously thin. I could feel the hot breath of the first monster on my leg, far too close for comfort. If I turned away, it was going to get through the door. But the second one—

It was on me. I kicked one leg out, catching it on the side of the head, but this only deterred it for half a second. The monster lunged forward and sank its teeth into the meaty part of my thigh.

The pain was intense. I took in a sharp gasp, too shocked to scream. When the monster let out a growl and braced itself, I knew it was going to twist its head and attempt to rip off a chunk of flesh.

I forgot everything else—my reaction was instantaneous. I let go of the door, reaching to my waist and pulling out the gun. I had just enough time to fire a bullet into the monster's head before the one outside attacked.

Just as my leg was freed, I was tackled to the floor. The Double Head opened its mouth, dripping saliva on to my face. Its breath smelled of rancid meat. I reached out and gripped at the thing's leg, only to have some of its flesh flake off in my hands. I felt sick.

Then it snarled and attempted to snap at my face, and desperation took over. I had dropped the gun—it was just out of reach—but there was the flashlight. I reached to one side and grabbed it, hitting the monster on the head with all my strength. It let out a yelp of pain, giving me just enough time to push it off of me.

I attempted to get to my feet, but slipped on the blood of the fallen Double Head. Its companion lunged at me again. I caught it by the shoulders, just barely holding it off. It was letting out horrible growling and whining sounds that were only vaguely reminiscent of a dog. Something else entirely was beneath those noises.

Finally gaining traction on the floor, I pushed the monster off of its feet. It kicked out, gouging my side with its back claws. The pain from my thigh drowned out everything else. Every movement sent bolts of agony from my leg all the way up my side, and my breath was coming in short gasps. As the monster struggled, I lifted the flashlight and brought it down. It connected with a loud _crack._

The next few minutes were filled with that sound. The light coming from the flashlight became tinged with pink as blood covered the lens.

When the Double Head's movements finally slowed, I stood up, panting. My foot came down hard in one final blow, snapping its neck. Then the monster lay still.

A few moments passed. I leaned against the wall, waiting for my breathing to get back under control.

"..._Fuck,_" I finally whispered.

Should've checked the whole length of the hallway before proceeding. _Dammit. _I brought this on myself.

I eyed the two corpses, shuddering at how close I had come to being killed just then. And it hadn't even been that long since I'd come to.

The leg of my jeans was slowly being soaked with blood. This was bad...wounded with no first aid kit. The smell would attract more Double Heads. I needed to staunch the blood flow somehow. This wasn't the place to do it. The office I had come from? No...nothing useful there. How...

Grimacing, I retrieved the gun and holstered it, checking the flashlight in the process. It was dented slightly, but otherwise perfectly fine. I had chosen well-this thing was nigh-indestructible.

Okay. Okay...just calm down. I needed to move quickly now. Find something useful...what was on this floor? I couldn't remember. Needed those fucking maps.

I took one glance behind me, double checking to make sure I wasn't going to get any more surprises. Then I pushed open the door to the main hallway and shined the light out into the darkness.

Nothing responded to the sudden illumination, and nothing had come to investigate all the noise. I moved slowly out into the hall, turning to the left.

Straight ahead, at the other end of the hall, was a second entrance to the KMN Auto Parts hallway. I ignored that. The entrances to the bathrooms were to my left; both of the doors were jammed shut, as expected. Running water would be good to clean the wound, but I wasn't sure I wanted to trust anything from here anyway. Who knew what it could be contaminated with.

Right turn. Now I was in the main area; on either side of me were elevators, and there was a vending machine against one wall. There was bottled water in the machine; I filed that thought away as a last resort. I didn't really want to stick around here for longer than I needed to after making so much noise.

Both elevators were shut. It wasn't this floor, then...did that mean the staircase door would be open? I'd come back to that. First I had to see what else was here.

I went back to the door I had come from, trying the door across from it. It opened easily.

The room I walked into was a large display area that I recognized immediately. It was the Gallery of Fine Arts. I paused for a moment, taking a breath and examining a few of the artworks. It was well-lit and...well, _normal _looking in here. Too bad there was really nothing of use in this place.

Except...

Oh, there was an idea. I headed for the doors in the top right corner of the room, knowing one of them would be usable. The second one I tried opened into a new hallway that was thankfully free of monsters. I turned to the left, trying the door at the end of the hallway, and was happy to find that I'd picked the correct one. This was the storeroom.

My happiness died pretty quickly when I saw that what I was looking for wasn't there. There was just an empty space on the stand where the katana should have been.

"...Of course," I whispered, shaking my head. Of course it wouldn't be here. Just my goddamn luck.

Well, that had been a complete waste of time. That left the stairwell. My wound was throbbing painfully...and this was really the wrong place for me to be looking for medical supplies. Dammit. I'd just have to head downstairs and hope for the best—

...That sound.

I froze, my thoughts grinding to a halt. There was a faint wailing coming from somewhere, a sound that brought back awful memories of feeling trapped and alone. Waking up in the basement's basement. Impenetrable darkness, abject terror. That was a siren I was hearing.

I leaned back against one of the shelves, feeling the strength go out of my legs. A siren. No. No...the shift was starting already? This couldn't be happening...

It was. The surroundings were deteriorating before my eyes. Blood and rust seeped into everything. The darkness thickened. I tried to fight the sudden feeling of faintness that overcame me, but it was futile. Suddenly everything gave out beneath me and I was falling into unknown depths, the last of the light vanishing in the blink of an eye.

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><p>There was no period of coming to. At some point I did lose consciousness, but I was mercilessly jolted awake by an absolutely repulsive smell. The scent conjured up mental images of rotting flesh infested with squirming maggots. When my eyes snapped open, I realized I hadn't been that far off.<p>

The flashlight was beside me on the metal grate I was lying on, pointing to my right, tilted just enough to partially illuminate the face of the creature that was looming over me. It wasn't a _face, _not really; the head was a mass of deformed flesh, torn and stitched back together. It tapered to a snoutlike end, where a gaping mouth revealed a mass of thin, jagged yellow teeth.

_Slurper. _

Its breath washed over me again and I wanted to gag. The snout came closer to my face, seeming to examine me. The creature was emitting a sound reminiscent to that of a person being choked, its humanoid body jerking occasionally.

My heartbeat seemed too loud. I remained tense, trying hard not to breathe, understanding that my stillness up to this point was what had kept me alive. It had no eyes. Could it smell me? Smell the blood? Everything around me was slick with blood.

A few seconds passed, seeming to melt into an eternity. I watched the creature and waited for it to lose interest. It turned away from my face and hovered its snout down the length of my body, moving slowly towards my feet. Just a little longer. Just let it get out of range so I could—

A loud metallic screech met my ears. Horror flooded me and I jerked involuntarily, forgetting everything else entirely as I searched the corridor for Pyramid Head.

The Slurper was not so easily distracted. The second I jerked, it lunged, its teeth just barely missing my leg as I kicked out. It crawled on top of me, pinning one of my shoulders with a clublike limb. I let out a distraught cry, reaching up and placing a hand in the middle of its chest to hold it off. Its skin was cold with an odd stiffness beneath—like touching a cadaver. This thing was heavier than the Double Head. I didn't have the strength to push it off of me; I could barely keep it from devouring me on the spot.

Its putrid breath hit me again and I was dismayed to feel vomit creeping up the back of my throat. I was nearly choking on it and now it was impossible to breathe, and now I could hear the sound of more things approaching, and the corridor was full of noise.

This was the end, then. After everything I was going to die alone and defenseless, pinned down and ripped apart in the depths of the Otherworld. It was over.

...Was that static?

The monster above me jerked violently and let out a hiss. I found that my shoulder was no longer pinned, and immediately reached for the flashlight. One hard whack to the head deterred the monster, surprisingly, and I was able to push it off.

I had to shield my eyes at several bright flashes; I recoiled with shock when I recognized the sound of gun reports. When I turned my head to look behind me, I saw the other Slurpers collapsing to the floor. It was now that I noticed the bloody stab wound in the Slurper that had pinned me.

A girl walked past me, kicking one of the creatures hard with the heel of her boot. The static quieted and finally died off.

...Hold on, what just happened? Was I hallucinating? A second ago I had been certain I was going to die.

The girl returned the gun to a pocket on her vest, switching the katana to her other hand. The katana. That was where the screech had come from—she must have hit it against one of the many grates in the hall.

At last, she turned to face me, her hazel eyes meeting mine. She looked young enough to still be in high school, but the tired, grim look on her face suggested that this place had stolen the last vestiges of her innocence. It was almost like looking at myself. Painful to meet a kindred soul.

"...Are you okay?" she asked.

I grimaced. "I've...I've been better. Thanks; I thought I was done for."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it, I guess."

Shifting slightly, I managed to gather my bearings and pushed myself to my feet. I couldn't stop myself from swaying a little when the pain from my wound reared its ugly head once more. The upper leg of my jeans was soaked.

"Who are you, anyway?" She pressed, frowning. Was that wariness I saw in her expression? Well, couldn't exactly blame her.

"My name's Brittany," I replied, wiping some blood off the lens of my flashlight. "You?"

"Heather," she replied. As I turned fully to face her, I saw her eyes widen. "Your leg..."

"About that..." I smiled sheepishly. "You wouldn't happen to have a first aid kit, would you?"

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><p><strong>AN: And Heather makes her debut! :D That's exciting, because I get sick of writing OC Brit's inner monologues when she's alone for too long. Also, y'know, she needs a breather after all that awful luck. Don't worry, things will get better for her! ...Not.**

**Love love love reviews! Comments, criticism and your own personal thoughts/theories are very welcome. Sometimes you guys are my inspiration!**

**Next time: Find the Holy One. Kill her?**


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